Chapter 12: Dallas Gets What He Asks For
xxxx
A/N: I am leaving in a couple of days for a week-long vacation – if I can get to my email, I might be able to post something, but likely not. Sorry about the wait all; have some Dallas.
Disclaimer: I don't own S.E. Hinton's fictional creations.
xxxx
"Kitchen."
It was a stretch.
Dallas looked at me sideways and cleared his throat. "What I mean is, I reckon there's a kitchen somewhere here under all this crap."
I ventured a smile. "You know, you're starting to remind me a little of Two-Bit."
Dallas cocked an eyebrow. "Ain't that the truth," he drawled, with sarcastic enthusiasm, a loopy grin on his face. "Even without them dumb fuckin' ugly sideburns? Tell you what, why don't you re-mind me, seeing as I misplaced my first. Get it? Re-mind? Hyuk."
He dropped the goofy look, slunk over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "I ain't in no way like that idiot yahoo."
I was struck for a minute by his harsh reaction. "You – you don't like him?" I asked quietly, when I could speak again.
He popped the top of his beer and took a swig, and managed to scowl and look confused at the same time. "Whattaya talk? He's my buddy." He tipped the beer at me. "You want?"
I blinked at his momentary slip into a New York accent. "No, thank you. Why would you make fun of your own friend? Isn't that a little … mean?"
I could barely get out the last word. I could hardly believe I'd even said anything at all to Dallas in such a reprimanding fashion, but I felt a strange sort of guilty surge when he belittle Two-Bit. He'd done a pretty decent impression.
Dallas looked at me with surprise and gave a kind of half-laugh. "Well, hell, kid. I thought you knew better than that. I thought you understood how we all operate. It ain't all unicorns and butterflies on the East Side."
He spoke with such an even mixture of disappointment and condescension that I didn't know whether to feel offended or apologetic. I only looked at him, lost for words. Only a minute ago, I'd felt as if we'd become real friends, close friends. I shouldn't have presumed, after such a short re-acquaintance …
A sly smile spread slowly across his face and I relaxed. "Unless there's some other reason you're defending him?"
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "No!" I said hastily. "I'm not – I'm not involved with – with anyone."
I forced myself to look him in the eyes, trying to make my point clear.
He took another sip of beer, and his eyes never left mine. They were such a clear, sharp, beautiful blue, I felt they were looking right into my soul …
"Yeah," he said, and belched. "Me either. I'm only dating someone." He winked at me and, to my shock, downed almost all the rest of his beer in one swallow. It wasn't even dinnertime.
"So, uh …" He looked around, suddenly uncomfortable. "You need scissors or something?"
I realized I'd almost completely forgotten about the reason I was there in the first place. I took a breath and tried to shake all thoughts of Two-Bit out of my mind, and focus purely on the man standing in front of me.
"I'll need a bowl."
"What the fuck for?" Dallas looked alarmed. "You ain't gonna put it on my head, are you?"
I laughed a little, and he scowled at me. "No, I just need it for water."
He looked at me, his brow furrowed. "You gonna wash the kitchen? Or me?"
I swallowed and looked down. "Neither … it's just to get your hair wet, so it's easier to cut."
"Huh," he said. "Well, it oughtta be …" He opened one of the cabinet doors and had to jump out of the way to avoid being hit in the head by a can of beans.
"Shit. Well, maybe … ?" He opened another cabinet, which held a box of matches and a couple tins of Spam.
"Maybe down there?" I pointed at the lower cabinets, which was where we usually kept our pots and bowls and things.
Dallas yanked it open and out of it fell, onto the cracked linoleum floor, more rusty pots and pans than Momma and me and the Curtises had put together.
"Fuck. Fuck," he said, throwing his hands up. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which he jammed into his mouth. "I'm done. This shit is for chicks. I'll be – I'll be … "
He left. I could hear the sound of him striking a match from the other room.
I sank to my knees and fished out a large, red, plastic bowl from the pile of pots.
"Didn't even want … fucking Sylvia …"
I heard a loud thud from the other room that I felt shake the walls of the tiny house.
"Bitch better not fuck up …"
I almost dropped the bowl as I stood. I'd heard people swear before, and I'd almost gotten used to hearing Dallas swear so thoughtlessly. But I couldn't remember anyone ever swearing so badly about me.
I swallowed and filled the bowl at the sink as calmly as I could, telling myself not to take his words to heart. He was nervous, and, after all, he wasn't saying it to my face. He hadn't meant for me to hear, so surely it wasn't what he really and truly felt.
Still … I almost dropped the heavy bowl as I placed it on the table, and my hands were shaking as I brought out my scissors and comb.
I heard him mutter "Sylvia" again and I felt suddenly a little angry and then, maybe because of it, a little more brave. I'd seen her work her wiles on Dallas, but I'd managed to trick her first. I thought back to what Two-Bit had said about me not being cut out to be like Sylvia. Well, maybe I wasn't like her, but that didn't mean I couldn't learn from her.
I smoothed down my hair and adjusted my skirt a little, hoping I looked alright. I felt my nerves flare all of a sudden, and tried to calm myself. Sylvia wouldn't have been nervous.
I crept out of the kitchen and down the hallway. I could hear him muttering to himself, but he must have moved outside. I couldn't make out the words, but I could hear the tension in them.
I opened the tiny closet and found what looked like a clean sheet to drape over his shoulders. I brought it back quickly to the kitchen and tried to calm my furiously beating heart. I wouldn't mess this up, I wouldn't, I wouldn't …
"Hey."
Dallas was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded, the now-empty bottle of beer dangling from his fingertips. He tipped his head to the side, studying me with narrowed eyes.
"I'm sorry you got blindsided," I said in a tiny voice.
He frowned at me, but not unkindly. "Hmm?"
"By Sylvia."
He laughed. "I didn't get blindsided. I don't do nothing unless I want to."
"Oh, good," I said relieved. "I thought maybe you didn't want a haircut."
He downed the rest of his beer. "Can't imagine why."
"I thought maybe you were only doing it cuz Sylvia made you. Cuz she said if you didn't-"
"Alright, we gonna do this or just talk about it?" he snapped. He looked around us at the tools I'd set up. "We good?"
I gave him a shaky smile. "All ready for you."
He nodded and moved to sit down.
He moved so quick, I had to scramble to get out of his way, and in my haste to move the sheet, I managed to sweep the scissors and comb clear off the table. They skittered across the linoleum and slid under the refrigerator.
"Oops," I squeaked.
Dallas gave me a long look. "I'll get 'em."
He retrieved the scissors and comb and made to give them to me. As he passed me the scissors, his long fingers brushed gently against mine and I felt a rush of excitement. Once again the scissors clattered to the ground.
Dallas closed his eyes and gave a short sigh.
"Sorry!" I tried to retrieve them, but somehow managed to kick them away from myself. I scrambled after them, and looked up to see Dallas staring at me, wide-eyed and incredulous. He shook his head and looked to the ceiling.
"Lord," he drawled. "Let the girl cut my hair without bloodshed, and when I get to heaven I swear I'll share my whiskey with Jesus."
I laughed nervously and wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt. Dallas was smirking, but as I bent to pick up the sheet again, I saw him cross himself out of the corner of my eye.
I swallowed and sent up a prayer of my own before turning to him. "Ready?" I asked bravely.
"Oh, God, I hope so."
I took a deep breath and reached for his hair. It was just hair, nothing to get excited about …
I sure hoped he couldn't feel me shaking.
I gently ran my fingers through his soft blond hair a couple times and tried to relax.
"You gonna cut my hair, or rip it out with your goddamn fingers?" Dallas said irritably. "Jesus, you broads like to take your time at everything, don't you? Don't much mind when it's something fun, but this …"
I felt a flush of embarrassment and I almost apologized, until I remembered that it wasn't something that Sylvia would do. Instead, I gave my best tinkly girlish laugh and ran my fingers through his hair again.
"It just feels so nice. Don't it feel nice?"
He twisted around to look at me, a small frown creasing his forehead.
I smiled weakly at him. "I mean, your hair is soft as silk. It's nice to touch."
He studied me with an unreadable expression, and I felt a thrill of fear, worrying that he'd suddenly get mad. But he only turned back around and settled back into the chair. "Suit yourself."
I ran my hands a few more times through his hair, then eased him back towards the water basin. "Gonna wet your hair a little, it'll make it easier to work with."
He grunted. I didn't know what that meant, but he wasn't running away, so I took it as an okay sign.
I combed his hair out again; even wet, it was still soft. I bit my lip, gathered my courage, and gently let my shaking fingers brush past the ends of his hair down the back of his neck to his shoulders. I felt like I was looking at another girl's hands touching him. I did it again, gently, and saw him swallow out of the corner of my eye. I felt a sudden thrill of excitement.
I reached for the scissors and he leaned forward suddenly, grabbing my hand. "Not too short, alright?"
"Sure," I said, hoping my voice didn't quiver.
I shook myself. One way or another I had to get his hair cut, and if I did it poorly, he would hate me. I'd certainly cut hair before – I just had to concentrate and forget that it was Dallas.
I took a deep breath, raised my scissors and gently made the first cut, letting the hair flutter down into the garbage pail. Dallas winced and jerked around quickly.
"Not too damn short!"
"That was barely a quarter of an inch," I protested. He looked so agitated it almost scared me a little.
"Yeah," he grunted and turned back around. "Well, that's a goddamn lot for a guy."
I made a few more tiny cuts, Dallas cringing with each snip of the scissors.
"Take it easy," he said suddenly, and I jumped so violently I almost stabbed him with the scissors. "Don't have to cut so damn fast. What if you screw it up?"
"Alright, I'll take a break," I said, setting down the scissors. I hesitated a second, then put my hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing as soothingly as I could.
Dallas glared at the scissors and I could have sworn I felt a tiny shudder go through him. "I fucking hate haircuts."
I bit back a smile. I could see now why he didn't want Sylvia to cut his hair or even to stick around while I did it. He would have hated for her to see him so uncomfortable. I could just imagine how much she would tease him, and I resolved to let that be the one point in this haircut where I wasn't like her.
"Well, it's a good thing you look good with your hair long, then," I said timidly.
Dallas shot me a suspicious look. "Yeah." He didn't say anything more, but he very slowly relaxed.
I took my time with the haircut, as much for me as for him, stopping every so often to wet his hair down again and comb it. I was too nervous to touch him again anywhere else but his hair and he didn't make any moves towards me.
The haircut was almost over and he still had hardly looked at me. We'd spent the afternoon together alone, we'd talked about the past, I'd even touched his shoulders, but he didn't seem to have a clue. I was getting desperate, running out of ideas on how to get him to notice me. I picked up the water basin, intending on emptying it to buy me some time, but I was so preoccupied I wasn't watching my footing. My toe caught the edge of his chair, and the basin flew from my hands, crashing to the floor and soaking Dallas from head to toe.
He yelped and leapt to his feet. "What the fuck!"
"I'm sorry," I cried. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
"Yeah? And now I'm soaked." He grimaced. "Jesus Christ, that's fucking cold!"
"I'm so sorry," I said miserably.
He glowered at me and I took a step back. He really was frightening when he was angry. "I look like I took a swim in my goddamn jeans. Jesus." He sat down again, squirming and tugging at his pants. "This sure ain't fucking comfortable."
I swallowed. "That's alright," I said unsteadily, trying to keep my voice from betraying my nerves. "You can take those off."
He looked up at me, surprised, the anger dropping off his face like a mask.
"I mean," I said quickly, "you can change into something that'll make you look better. For Sylvia."
"For Sylvia," he echoed. He was staring at me intently, a tiny half-smile on his face. "Well, maybe I will then." He snapped the button on his jeans and slowly undid the zipper, his eyes burning into mine. Then suddenly he stood up.
"Better go and change," he said in a low voice, and winked.
"Good idea," I said relieved.
He left and I sat down quickly, my legs trembling. I'd started it with my obvious hints, just like Sylvia had, but I was gladder than anything that he'd left instead of acting on it like I knew he would have with her. I'd never been so nervous in my life. I couldn't imagine what I was thinking, talking to a boy like that.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm down. My heart was beating so hard I thought I might faint. I couldn't be this nervous forever – Sylvia didn't seem nervous flirting with any boy, even the dangerous King Shepard, as Two-Bit had called him, and it was high time I'd outgrown it. If I was going to compete with her, I'd have to play her game.
I managed to calm down before Dallas returned, but I almost dreaded the sound of his footsteps. He came back in the room and all I could do was stare at him.
"This look alright?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. "You're looking awful hard at me." He pulled the edge of the shirt to his face. "Don't smell do it?"
"N-no. Looks fine," I stammered. I was so nervous, it barely registered what he was wearing.
"Good," he grunted, pushing up his sleeves. "I ain't about to go back in there and change again anyway."
I nodded, not listening. He was going to leave soon, and I was sure he had no idea of my intentions.
"It's getting late. I better go …" He was looking around, bored, and I knew this was my last chance. I swallowed and took a deep breath. I could do this.
"Don't you ever tuck your shirt in?" I said in my most teasing voice, and reached forward to grasp his shirt front.
I'd meant, obviously, to help him with the tucking-in process. Sylvia's words about a man's inclination for subtlety kept running through my head. If I was going to let Dallas know I was interested, I had to get his thinking where a boy feels romance. But as soon as I touched his waist, I had a sudden clarity of thought that made me freeze.
I was a good girl damn it, and there wasn't no way in hell I was going to put my hand anywhere close to it.
Dallas had started something awful when I'd moved towards his waist but he was recovering better than I. His look of shock gave way to a look of amusement and he slowly let his hands drop to his sides.
My fingertips were still pressed against his stomach. I knew I should take them away at least, since there wasn't no way I was going to go through with helping him dress. But I couldn't seem to get myself to move.
"Go on, then," he said huskily, a sly smile spreading over his face. "You gonna help me dress like a proper gentleman?"
I felt my face flush and my breath get short. He slowly moved a hand toward the one of mine that was pressed against his midsection, and finally I got my wits about me enough to move. I yanked my hand away and stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet and falling to the ground. That sly smirk spread across Dally's face until suddenly he was laughing.
My eyes started to water; it smarted when I'd fallen, but I was more humiliated than hurt. I bit my lip and forced myself not to cry. I'd made a fool enough of myself already without any tears.
Dally's laughter died down slowly and he reached for me. "Here you go; need a hand up?"
I let him help me up, but I couldn't even look at him. His voice was still thick with amusement.
"I didn't mean to," I mumbled, not even sure what else I could say to justify my actions.
Dallas laughed again. "I don't imagine you did. But, hell, I didn't mind."
I snuck a quick look at him, and found he was smiling.
"Tell the truth, I was just starting to enjoy myself." He was still holding my hand from when he'd helped me up, but now he slid it slowly up my arm. I felt my breath catch.
"Well, don't you look smart."
I whirled around to see Sylvia standing there, taking us in with her calm blue gaze. I couldn't think of how to explain what was happening, but she hardly seemed to notice me.
"Told you not to come in," Dallas said, but he didn't sound angry.
Sylvia shrugged. "Door was open."
Dallas moved passed me and folded his arms. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him glance almost nervously down the hallway where his bedroom was. He didn't look at me. "So? Whattaya think of the castle?"
"Honey, I ain't wastin' my time lookin' at nothing but you, right now," Sylvia drawled, "with your smart new haircut."
Dallas grinned, and dropped his arms. "You like it, huh?"
Sylvia glided towards him. "You look awfully presentable." She tipped her head back and smiled at him, a look in her eyes that I couldn't place.
"Well, don't get fucking used to it," he said roughly, pulling her in to him. "I ain't about to go doing this on my own anytime soon." He looked up at me. "You were a real good help," he said sincerely.
"You did make him look nice," Sylvia said, beaming at me. "Better than I could have."
Behind her back, Dallas gave me a wink.
"Sure," I said, feeling suddenly confident. I met Dally's gaze squarely. "Anytime."
I watched them walk out together, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. I was amazed that Sylvia couldn't see the danger right in front of her face.
xxxx
A/N: That scene was fun, but almost unbearably awkward to write. Having a good girl like Susie try and "seduce" Dallas was like leading a lamb to the slaughter. I'd love to hear any feedback on it, good and bad; mostly, I worry about OOC-ing Dallas.
